Iscophora: A Beginning
by Iscophora
Summary: The Drakan Lords have awakened from their slumber and have begun their attack. The Empyrean Lords are locked in civil war, and Erishkigal has advanced onto Atreia. Who will challenge this foe? Who will unite Atreia under a banner to fight against this ancient enemy?


Ch. 1: The First Council of the Gods

After-Cataclysm 100 Winter

Sarpan

The Twelve Empyrean Lords were gathered in the Grand Hall. Each in their throne of power, each sitting with grim purpose written on their faces. The Game was about to be played. The fate of Atreia was about to be decided by these twelve. How well they played The Game would decide the prosperity or the doom of Atreia.

This was the first meeting of the Lords after the Cataclysm, and at a time most fateful. Rumors of the Drakan Lords' revivals had been circling around both halves of Atreia as the remnant Drakan forces encroached upon both Elysea and Asmodae. Scouts from both factions had been disappearing from Reshanta and while the factions blamed each other, the Lords present knew that a greater force had a hand in this.

Lord Israphael and Lady Siel had invited the five Lords of Asmodae and the five Lords of Elysea to the Grand Palace in Sarpan. For the next few months, peace talks and strategic meetings on the future of Atreia would be held.

"My lords, welcome." Lady Siel pronounced. "It is my great honor to see the Twelve Lords gathered once more. Last we met, the world was nearly split in two, but due to your leadership and prowess, the citizens of Atreia are thriving. Now, I know more than anyone that the peace between the two Daevic factions are uneasy at times, but let us not forget that we are first and foremost Daevas, called to serve a higher calling to protect our people against the Drakan Lords. The war at the Tower of Eternity has weakened our enemy but they are still out there, waiting for a chance to strike. So though we are split on the decisions made a century ago, we must reunite to face a greater threat. Perhaps the wounds dealt back then are still fresh, as time is not so fleeting for us Empyrean Lords, but let us put aside our differences for the good of Atreia."

There was no sign of affirmation or dissent amongst the gathered Lords. Lady Siel glanced around the room uneasily, unsure if her words had been understood among the gathered assembly. She looked around at mostly stoic faces, waiting for a reaction of any kind. A full minute passed before a slender woman draped in sackcloth and wire, with black fire in her gait, stood up. She walked over to where Lady Siel stood. Her wings, rustled behind her, bat like, skeletal. The train of her sackcloth pooled shadows on the white marble floor, where the clank of chains, screams and tortured groans erupted from the ground. In these pools of shadows, one could see fire, burning bodies, and the souls of the damned. The woman unveiled her head, revealing a face of pure white, like the pallor of death, and lips as black as the waters of Alukina's Palace. Her eyes were ruby red, and when she spoke, the voices of the damned resounded with her.

"The good of Atreia," Triniel, Lord of Death, scoffed. "The last time I remember someone saying that, we got twelve arrows in our backs and an army of Elyseans barking at our gates." Triniel stopped in front of the seated Elysean Lords and pointed a stark white finger at their general direction. "If I remember correctly, the last time I heard 'The good of Atreia,' the Night of A Thousand Scythes befell Pandemonium and nearly a thousand Asmodian lives were erased. And for what?" Triniel looked scathingly at the Elysean Lords. "For your precious Katalium and Corundum? No. I will not ally myself with these liars."

"Silence!" bellowed one of the men seated opposite. His wings shot out in an eruption of fury, a corona of heat and light igniting the hall. The area around his throne, charred to a crisp as he stood up. He is Nezekan, Lord of Justice, with wings white as Katalian snow, and eyes burning like the Eye of Reshanta. He gripped the arms of his brazen throne until his knuckles turned white hot. "We would not have had to war with you had you not invaded our lands. You were the vermin that took what was rightfully ours. We were merely returning what was stolen back to our people. Thieves like you cannot be trusted."

And just like that, the entire hall erupted into a frenzy of argument and chaos. The Lords were banned from fighting with their full might, but the emotions that ran high in the hall let slip many a supernatural event that day. It was said that so much power was unleashed, the very silverware placed nearby became weapons of repute after the peace talks.

Lady Siel buried her head in her hands and sighed. What had been her idea to try and unite the lords against Erishkigal and Beritra had turned against her and had birthed this calamity of babbling infants fighting over minutiae. Lady Siel felt a hand on her shoulder and she looked up. She saw that Lord Israphael had risen from his throne of pure white platinum and was now standing on the elevated dais.

"Enough." His voice echoed, resonating through the halls and rang throughout the palace. The gathered lords stopped their bickering immediately and with almost an air of awe and respect, they each returned to their respective seats. Lord Israphael stepped down from the dais and turned to each of the Empyrean Lords in turn. He walked with slow purpose, giving no partiality to any one Lord. He walked all the way to the end of the Great Hall and turned around to look at Lady Siel.

"The time for pointless squabbles is over. Atreia is threatened by the return of our old enemy. We have been called to act, and fulfill our duty as Empyrean Lords. If you do not wish to join us, we will consider you an enemy to the Atreian peace and exile you Drakanland. The era of the Drakan Lord is nigh. "

As Lord Israphael ended his speech, the hall fell back into silence once more, with each of the Lords in their respective thrones, now in full accord with Lady Siel and Lord Israphael. Nobody said a word until the head of the Asmodian Lords stood up. He was seven feet tall, with wings like a raven. His skin was calloused from the eons spent in Asmodae amongst his people. He wore two silver bangles on his wrists and on his left arm, he bore a tattoo of morphing images. Scenes of suffering, and of pain were depicted on his arm. His face was weathered with exhaustion and age, as if he bore the same pain depicted on his arm. He is Azphel, Lord of the Shadows.

"Lord Israphael, the Asmodian Shedim Lords will accept your proposal on one condition."

"Azphel, state your proposal." Lord Israphael nodded.

Lord Azphel shifted his gaze to that of Lady Ariel, Lady of Light, and leader of the Elyseans.

"From hence forth, all Elyseans will relinquish claim to any land within the borders of Katalam and Danaria. All Elyseans will leave Asmodian land and never set foot within our borders again."

The four other Elysean Lords bolted out of their chairs and began shouting, screaming, cursing, and blaspheming. The cacophony of their shouting was mixed with the snicker of the Asmodian Lords who laughed at the disdain the Elyseans showed. However, Lady Ariel and Lord Azphel considered each other for a long time in silence, despite the other Lords bickering. Then, almost if cued, both of them raised their arms out in synchronization. The other lords became silent, and the hall was filled with a nervous silence yet again. Lady Ariel rose from her seat of power: a silver rose, emblazoned with diamonds.

"I will accept Lord Azphel's demands on a condition of my own." Lady Ariel spoke.

"Speak." Lord Azphel was curt with his response, with no finesse or deception.

"You can have the entirety of Balauria; in exchange, we will take the forts of Upper Reshanta." Lady Ariel spoke with candor and unwavering determination.

No one spoke as the two heads of the factions brokered their agreements for peace. Lady Siel looked at Lord Israphael with an expression of helplessness and a plea for help, but Lord Israphael returned the same look, unable to do much with these two stubborn heads of factions. Silence filled the hall as the two leaders considered their options and the fate of Atreia as they knew it. The tension in the room was palpable, as Lady Ariel and Lord Azphel stared at each other for what felt like eons.

"This is agreeable," Lord Azphel eventually said. Lady Ariel stood and walked over to Lord Azphel.

"Let us seal this agreement then," Lady Ariel said. As methodically and in synch as they were before, both drew daggers from their sleeves. Ariel's was of white steel, Azphel's of black Katalium. In practiced movements, both slashed their hands, making superficial cuts. They grasped each other's forearms, blood smearing on their arms.

"So mote it be," both the deities said. The sky darkened in the distance, and thunder boomed throughout the Sarpan valley. And with that, Ariel and Azphel turned away, and exited the Great Hall to their respective chambers. The Lords of each faction followed their leaders, frightened to question their judgements, but livid with the fact that cooperation was the only option in this situation. And thus ended the first day of the Council of the Gods. Lady Ariel and Lord Israphael sat silent in the Great Hall for a few minutes, unable to grasp the full gravity of what had just occurred.

"What have we wrought?" Lady Siel asked, her voice echoing off the empty walls. Silence greeted her, as it often did. As if by omen, the thunder answered her in the distance, rumbling and cackling with delight as the torrential rains of winter rained down on Sarpan.


End file.
